


Let it Snow

by 221castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent John Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Co-Workers, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Child Jack Kline, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Post-Break Up, Teacher Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27800257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221castiel/pseuds/221castiel
Summary: From under the rolled up sleeves of Castiel's sweater Dean could just see the wings that tattooed his skin, the tips of feathers done in a dark ink. He didn't need to see the rest to know each line, each feather and detail. To know the way the dark ink made Cas's tanned skin seem to glow, to know how the feathers had been engraved along his shoulder blades and down his arms to just below his elbows, or the way Jack's name had been done cursivly in one of the feathers.Dean knew every inch of that tattoo, and part of him wondered how long he'd know every inch of that tattoo.How long he'd know every inch of the other's body.How long he'd know every shade of blue that danced through his irises.How long he'd know the gravely tone of the other's voiceHow long it would take before he could look to Castiel, and not feel the heartache of everything he'd lost.-Or, where it's been almost a year since Dean and Castiel have broken up and struggle with joint custody, lingering feelings, and the Christmas season
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 57





	1. Prologue

It could have been done with his eyes closed; a cup of tea with a spoon of sugar and the smallest splash of milk, milk not cream, it was never cream, a cup of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, a swirl of whipped cream, and then covered with Christmas sprinkles, and finally a cup of coffee, otherwise black if it wasn’t for the splash of whisky that got mixed in. 

It could have been done with his eyes closed, the motions long memorized after being done every Christmas morning.

Then like every other Christmas morning Dean slowly picked up the three mugs, carefully carrying them across the kitchen, into the hallway, and towards the living. His socked feet padding against the wood flooring as he turned from the hallway, and into the living room doorway. 

He was immediately met with the soft crackling of the fireplace, warmth seeming to spread through the room, tugging a smile across his lips. At the foot of the fireplace Jack was sat surrounded by the still wrapped presents he’d pulled from his stocking, a small box covered in bright red paper in his hands. Across his face a wide smile was spread, rounding his cheeks, and making Dean’s own smile widen. 

It was impossible not to be happy around the child. To not feel some kind of warmth from his endless grins and bell-like giggles. To not fall helpless in love with his tousled hair, that never seemed to stay in place, or the gap in his smile from his missing tooth. 

Dean watched as Jack gave the box ahake, before the child looked up and their eyes met.

“Dad!” Jack cried, raising the wrapped box he held in his small fists. “Look what Santa brought!”

“Well shit,” Dean hummed, “I thought I told Santa not to come this year.”

“He even ate the cookies!”

“Really?” Dean asked, voice raised in a fake interest as he received an excited nod from Jack. “Well I think next year Santa would like some pie instead.”

“I think Santa eats enough pie,” Cas hummed softly, Dean's gaze immediately darting to the other who was sat cross legged on one of their couches, their small cat, Atticus asleep in his lap. His dark hair was just as tousled as Jack’s, and his face was lit in a soft yet teasing smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and causing Dean’s heart to skip. 

Skip.

Lighten.

Dean wasn't sure the right word, he only knew the burst in his chest that came every time he was met with Cas’s blue eyes. Not fireworks, those were too intense, yet not butterflies, it was the inbetween. The sun flaring across his cheeks on warm days, the smell of baking in the evenings, the fireplace on winter nights. 

It was the inbetween, that even the word love seemed too simple for.

“That’s where you're wrong, angel,” Dean stepped out of the doorway and into the living, eyes still on his boyfriend, and the reindeer onesie he wore. “There’s no such thing as enough pie.”

He placed Jack’s hot chocolate on the coffee table, before he handed Cas his mug of tea, the other taking it in one hand, while his other stayed rested on the cat, fingers moving slowly through its fluffy fur. 

“Bee,” Cas hummed softly, looking back to Jack as Dean took a seat next to him. “Are you going to open your presents now?”

“Yah!” Jack cried, raising the box that his small fists still wrapped around, “This one first.”

Dean grinned, watching as Jack dropped to the floor, the child's tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he began opening the present. One of his hands stayed pressed to the top of the box, holding it still, while his other began carefully pulling at the tape that held the wrapping paper closed. 

As Jack slowly unwrapped his gifts Dean raised his free arm, the tattooed skin hidden under the long sleeves of his Christmas pajamas, and draped it around Cas’s shoulder. He could feel the other shift the slightest bit closer, something that only tugged a grin back across his face as he brought his coffee cup to his lips and took a small sip.

It was too perfect not to be happy. 

The fire crackling.

Their tree glowing, hung with ornaments 

Stockings, decorations, gifts. 

Jack. 

Dean finally looked away from Jack, and back to Castiel at his side, the other’s eyes immediately meeting his. 

Cas. 

Cas, with Those bright eyes that shined with every shade of blue, that crinkled at the corner, as his lips tugged in a small smile. 

Those eyes that Dean could stare at forever. 

Slowly he lent in, pressing a small kiss to Cas’s cheek, before resting their foreheads together, close enough that he could feel Cas’s warm breath flaring across his cheeks. Close enough Dean could see the rise and fall of the other’s chests, hear the soft purs that came from Atticus, smell the tea that filled his mug. 

Everything that was Cas, everything that Dean absolutely loved. 

Everything Dean could spend the rest of his life falling in love with. 

“Merry Christmas,” Dean whispered softly, voice coming out just as breathlessly as he felt. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”


	2. Chapter one

1 year later

December 1st,  
24 days until Christmas 

The engine was cut, and for a moment Dean’s eyes stayed locked on the house he parked outside of. It was one floor, with white paneled walls, and a brown roof that was now covered in bright snow. Without even going inside he already knew what it was like, he’d long ago memorized the set up. Every hall, every room, every doorway, the colours of the walls, and the material that made the floor, the way the ceiling was just that little to low when you took the staircase to the unfinished basement. He knew every chip in the paint, and every scratch on wood. 

He knew the house, yet staring at it, through the falling snowflakes, only brought dread. A deep unease that came every Friday night when he walked up the stairs to pick Jack up, and every Sunday evening when he walked back up them to drop Jack off. 

Dread. 

Discomfort.

Pain.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked up the front steps and felt ease. 

“Dad?”

“Yah kid?” Dean hummed. His eyes still rested on the house to his left, more specifically the Christmas tree that glowed in the window, contrasting against the evening sky, and falling snow.

When no reply came Dean turned finally looked away from the window and instead to the back seat where Jack was sat. A wide grin was spread across the child's face, while his arms were wrapped around the teddy bear that sat in his lap.

“How about,” Jack finally began in his usual high voice, “I can stay with you again!” 

“Yah,” Dean replied, “Next weekend.”

“No now!”

Dean gave a shake of his head, something that only made Jack’s smile drop into a pout. “But, we can watch the who movie!” Jack cried, causing Dean to raise an eyebrow.

“The who movie?”

“Yah with the mean green man, and the baby puppy,” Jack babbled. “And the man sneaks into the houses, and takes Christmas!” 

“The grinch?”

“Yah!”

Dean couldn’t help the small tug of his lips, as he turned away from Jack, and instead faced forward, eyes on the front window of Baby, and the thin layer of snow already covered the glass. “We’ll watch it next weekend,” Dean said as he pulled out the keys, shoving them into his jacket pocket before he undid his seat belt. 

“Tonight!”

“Jack-“ 

“Please!” 

Dean glanced to the rear view mirror, getting a glimpse of Jack's pleading expression, a mix of puppy dog eyes, and a puckered out bottom lip. 

For a moment he considered doing as Jack wanted, turning the engine back on, and driving back to his apartment, where they could spend the night watching movies and eating junk food. Fall asleep on the couch then make pancakes for breakfast. Just one more night that Dean could spend with Jack, one more night where his apartment would be filled by giggles and stories instead of the heavy silence that usually weighed throughout it.

Dean wanted so badly to do as Jack asked though no matter how much he wanted he knew he couldn’t and instead pushed open his door. A low crunching coming as he stepped out of the car and into the snow, the noise continuing with each step he took, from his door and to Jack’s. 

“You gonna walk yourself?” Dean asked as he pulled open Jack’s door, leaning down so he could peer into the backseat of the car, where Jack was still sitting, somehow more pouty than before.

“No?”

Jack didn’t respond, instead crossing his arms over his chest, head twisting to look the other way.

“Come on kid, I’m freezin’ my ass off.”

As Jack once again didn’t respond, Dean exhaled breath coming out in a cloud around him. He leant into the car, unbuckling Jack’s seat belt before he took the child into his arms, Jacks own arms immediately wrapping around his neck, squeezing tightly. 

With one arm holding Jack to his chest Dean stood, using his other to close the door, before he turned back to the house, breath immediately hitching in his throat. His grip around Jack tightening as he took his first step forward.

A second soon following.

It never got easier, walking along the path, up to what once had been his home. Though now it seemed harder then ever, each step more forced then the last, as Jack’s face stayed buried in his shoulder, and arms around his neck. 

It wasn’t until he’d made it up the front porch, and had knocked on the door that he let out even somewhat of an even breath. 

He forced himself to take another breath as he herd movement behind the door, and then with his heart leaping to his throat, the door was pulled open. 

“Hello Dean,” 

“Cas,” Dean greeted. His voice steadier than he expected with his heart racing, hammering frantically in his chest. His eyes lingered on Cas’s for a moment before darting down his body, then once again to his eyes. He looked good, tired but good, his blue eyes seeming more vibrant against the blue long sleeve he wore, a blue long sleeve that was one of the few shirts he owned which showed off his build; hugging his shoulders and waist.

His dark hair was its usual mess, and the thought of leaning forward and attempting to fix it crossed Dean’s mind. Run his fingers through the dark strands, then trail them down the side of the Cas’s face, lean in for a slow kiss, movements that were once automatic. Done most mornings when they were still too tired to wake up, or on late nights when they were together on the couch.

With that thought still lingering on Dean’s mind, stabbing at his heart, he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” Dean hummed this time to Jack, gaze dropping to his son. “you gonna say hi?” 

He raised his free hand to Jack’s hair brushing his fingers through the strands that were now stuck together with small snowflakes, though Jack stayed silent. The only indication that he had even heard Dean was the small movement he made, burying his face further into Dean’s shoulder, and grip tightening around Dean’s neck.

“Come on kid,” Dean pestered. “Don’t be stormy.”

When it became clear Jack wasn’t going to reply Dean looked back up to Cas, forcing a smile across his own face that the other didn’t mimic. Instead Cas continued to stare, his gaze harsh, and lips pressed in a tight line. 

Whether it was meant to be that way, or if he was simply being Cas, Dean wasn’t sure, though either way he could feel his stomach tug. His lips suddenly incredibly chapped no matter how many times he licked at them and throat dry, the words he’d been wanting to say suddenly stuck.

He’d been practising throughout the drive, the reasonings of why he should get Jack for Christmas, yet now, they all seemed blurred. A mix of thoughts that didn’t make much sense even to him.

“Dean-“ 

“Are busy?” Dean asked before could he dwell on his thoughts any longer. “Or could we talk?” 

Cas tilted his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing together. “About?”

“Christmas.”

For a moment Cas didn’t rely, his lips staying pressed in a tight line, before they slowly parted. “I have a few minutes.” 

After bringing Jack, who still only gave Dean mopey looks, to his bedroom, Dean made his way through the house. Down the hallway, and into the kitchen where he took a seat at the kitchen table.

He didn’t look to other as Cas placed a mug in front of him then took a seat at the other side, Dean didn’t think he could. He didn’t think he could see those blue eyes he knew so well. The darker shades that would be visible, overlapping the lighter, so powerful, so electric, it put even the ocean to shame. He couldn’t look and so instead Dean glanced to the kitchen, gaze darting across the room he knew well.

It was set up exactly as he remembered it, though now decorated for the holidays, with fake holly lining the cabinet tops, while the kitchen towels and placements had been replaced with Christmas themed ones. Everything about it was incredibly warm, with candles glowing through the dim lighting, and the lingering smell of baking. 

Warm.

Welcoming. 

Home. 

That thought passed Dean’s mind for less than a second before a soft meow got his attention and his gaze dropped from the kitchen and to the floor, where Atticus walked past his feet and towards Cas. 

“You still have that fuckin’ thing?” Dean asked as he finally looked to the other. 

“His name is Atticus Finch.”

“More like Assicus.” Dean mumbled as Cas lifted the cat onto his lap.

For a moment Cas didn’t reply, his gaze on the cat in his lap one hand brushing through Atticus's calico fur while his other rested around his cup of tea, leaving the room to sit in a heavy silence. Each breath that parted Dean’s lips seemed too loud, seeming to echo off the walls, bouncing back.

Everything was too loud, his breathing, Atticus’s purring, the ticking clocking, his own thoughts. 

He knew what he wanted- had to say, and he was sure Cas already knew what he was going to say, yet the words seemed stuck, even as his lips slowly parted. 

One breath, he let himself exhale once before speaking. 

“You had him for Easter,” Dean barely whispered. His heart seemed to stop as Cas finally looked up, the pain clear in his eyes for a moment, though just as quickly as it was there, it was gone. “And his birthday.”

“So you want him?”

“Want him?” Dean asked almost breathlessly, words coming out more exhausted then he’d expected- almost empty. “Why the hell wouldn’t I want him.”

Cas didn’t reply and instead he pressed his lips into a tight line, gaze dropping to his cup. 

There was nothing else to say and Dean knew that no argument Cas could make that would explain why he should get Jack, and no joke Dean could crack that would ease the tense atmosphere. Something that had suddenly settled around them, thick and heavy, squeezing out any air that had once filled Dean’s lungs. 

“You can have him next year.”

Once again Cas didn’t reply, only giving the smallest nod in response, and leaving Dean with no way to respond. 

He didn’t want Jack- or atleast in this way. He wanted Christmas, he wanted the way too early mornings, and soft smiles that would tug across Cas’s lips, he wanted the gifts and crackling fire. Everything he’d learned to love, everything he hadn’t spent enough time appreciating. He wanted Christmas not the expression that now sat across Cas’s face, underlined with pain, as he stared down to Atticus. 

Dean let his own gaze rest on the other for a moment, across his wide eyes, and locked jaw, looking until his heart hurt too much and his gaze dropped to something easier to look at. Castiel’s hand which still rested around his mug. 

From under the rolled up sleeves of Cas’s sweater Dean could just see the wings that tattooed his skin, the tips of feathers done in a dark ink. He didn't need to see the rest to know each line, each feather and detail. To know the way the dark ink made Cas's tanned skin seem to glow, to know how the feathers had been engraved along his shoulder blades and down his arms to just below his elbows, or the way Jack's name had been done cursivly in one of the feathers.

Dean knew every inch of that tattoo, and part of him wondered how long he'd know every inch of that tattoo.

How long he'd know every inch of the other's body.

How long he'd know every shade of blue that danced through his irises. 

How long he'd remember the way Cas's hands would glide his body. 

How long it would take before he could look to Castiel, and not feel the heartache of everything he'd lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just gonna pretend that I’m not already behind on day one despite having wrote the majority of the chapter! Cause that kind of procrastination would be stupid! Nope! Not here!   
> Also let’s pretend I don’t hate this already!   
> Everything’s fine   
> :)  
> Anyways I do really hope y’all had a fantastic start to your December and are taking care of yourselves!   
> Lots of love x.


	3. Chapter two

December 2nd,  
23 days until Christmas

“Are you sure you can come?”

“Ya.”

“You don’t have to I really-”

“Charlie!” Dean snapped. He looked up from the coffee machine he’d been glaring at and instead to his friend who leant against the counter next to him. Her own expression somewhere between concerned and apologetic. “I told you I was comin’, I’m not gonna miss your birthday.”

Charlie let out a visible sigh, one of her hands raising to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Cas is coming.”

“You already told me.”

“I know I just-” Charlie trailed off and when she didn’t continue Dean looked back to the coffee machine. It was easier to look at than Charlie’s wide eyes expression, the concern and worry clear across her features, a look that tugged at Dean’s stomach. That left him uneasy, a twist of emotion that he couldn’t quite explain. The coffee machine was easy to look at, easy to understand his feelings about it. Anger. He fucking hated the staff rooms coffee machine that the schools principle insisted was fine, though was anything but. With its slow brewing that was always weak, and barely over room temperature.

He fucking hated the low chatter that filled the staff room. The other teachers talking just that little too loud where he couldn't fully focus on Charlie, though couldn’t fully focus on any of the other conversations. 

Most of all he fucking hated the tension that came any time Cas’s name was spoken. 

Fuck he hated everything at that moment. 

“I don’t want to make things harder for you,” Charlie finally said her voice softer than before, stabbing at Dean’s heart. Tugging at it in a way that made him clench his jaw, and force himself to exhale through his nose, then inhale, doing so once, then twice. 

“Nothin’s hard for me,” Dean finally said, voice coming out steadier than he expected. He could hear Charlie shift, probably tugging at the sleeve of her flannel, though it was only a small noise that blurred in the constant chatter and movements of the other teachers. “Hell things are goin’ awesome. I’ve got a hot chick in the apartment next to me, I get the kid on the weekends, I even get him for Christmas.” Dean flicked off the drip coffee maker, before filling his coffee cup, with the little coffee that had been made. 

He looked back to Charlie forcing a grin across his own face that Charlie didn’t match Instead her features still sat in uncertainty, lips pressed together, while her eyes darted across Dean’s face. 

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck, everything’s fine between me and him,” Dean continued, voice maybe little more insistent then he’d originally meant for it to be. “Yah, things were awkward at first, but we’re fine now, we can handle being in the same room.” 

This time Charlie raised an eyebrow, “Last week you told me-”

“Me and Cas are fine.” Dean grabbed his mug, before he took a step backwards, in the direction of the tables. “And I’m coming to your birthday,” Dean said, taking another step backwards. 

“Dea-” Before he could hear what Charlie was going to say he turned around, coffee cup just starting to rise as he collided with someone else.

Papers flew everywhere, and Dean’s mug was knocked from his hand, coffee spilling across his hand burning at his skin. “Son of a bitch,” Dean cried, gaze dropping to his hand, which now dropped in hot water, still burning no matter how many times he shook it. He clenched his jaw as the pain seared, his fingers clenching and unclenching until the pain became manageable and Dean looked back up, meeting the all too familiar eyes of Castiel.

Son of a bitch. 

“Dean,” Cas cried, causing Dean’s heart to leap in his throat. Cas' hands had grabbed the front of his white button up, holding the material away from his chest. It may have kept himself from being burnt though it did nothing to stop the coffee from soaking his closing, leaving the once white fabric a dull brown, that covered his chest in a large spot, and his sleeves in smaller drops.

Dean’s lips parted and for a moment he could only stare, any thought he’d once had gone, as his gaze went from Cas’s shirt, to his eyes. “Shit,” Dean finally breathed, still more to himself then Cas. “Shit,” He repeated.

This time Dean took a step forward, gaze once again darting down Cas’s chest before looking back his eyes, the shock that had once filled them replaced by nothing short of anger. “Shit, Cas” Dean continued, “sorry, I didn’t- shit, you okay.”

“I’m fine,” Cas replied, his usual steady tone replaced with something harsher, while his eyes stayed narrowed on Dean

“Are you sure-“ Dean asked. Part of him wanted to reach forward, make sure the other was actually okay, that the coffee hadn’t burnt him too bad. To feel Cas’s smooth skin under his own calloused fingers. His warmth. Though instead Dean clenched his fingers together, forcing his eyes to stay on Cas’s instead of once again looking down his body. “Do you have an extra shirt- fuck-” Before Cas could reply Dean began shrugging off his leather jacket from his shoulders, offering to the other when he’d gotten it off. “You can wear this.”

Cas didn’t make a movement and instead his eyes darted to Dean’s hand then back to his face. His lips were pressed in a tight line, and nose scrunched just the slightest bit, an expression Dean would have found cute if the glare had been directed at anyone else. “You can get changed and I’ll- uh- clean up.”

“Come on man-” Dean insisted when Cas hadn’t moved, voice lighter than before. “You’re lookin’ a little messy.”

Cas’s lips stayed pressed together though somehow his glare became even more harsh as he pulled the jacket from Dean’s hand, and turned away. Dean’s eye didn’t leave Cas’s back, instead watching as he walked out of the staff room, then when Cas was gone the spot he’d once stood, the ground still covered in papers and spilt coffee. Deam could feel his heart heavy in his chest, each beat low and steady, ringing through his head, only numbed by the weight in his stomach. He could still see Cas’s glare, the harsh blue that practically burned into him, his locked jaw, and defensive posture. 

Dean’s own jaw clenched as he turned back to Charlie, who unlike the rest of the teachers made no attempt to hide her staring. “You’re right,” Charlie hummed tone higher than normal, “you guys are totally fine.” 

~

When the final bell rang and Dean stepped out of the school he was met with falling snow, small flakes that fluttered around him, leaving a thin blanket over the parking lot and cars that filled it. The sky above a darkening grey, while the chill that filled the air bit at Dean’s cheeks, leaving his eyes watery and jaw clenched. 

He immediately wrapped his bare arms around his body, trying to keep warm as he began his walk through the parking lot. The snow crunching under his boots with each step he took. 

A step then crunching

A step then crunching.

A step then crunching. 

A step, then another didn’t follow as his feet came to a stop, gaze locked on the familiar head of hair that looked down to his phone as he stood next to Baby. “Cas,” Dean barely whispered, eyes lingering on the other, who was still wrapped in Dean’s leather jacket, the material hanging around his shoulders, making him look smaller than he actually was. “Cas,” Dean repeated, this time loud enough that the other looked up. 

The smallest smile tugged across Cas’s lips, one that caused Dean’s heart to skip, it was so soft, genuine, welcoming, as if the incident hours before had never happened. “Dean,” Cas greeted. 

His own lips parted ready to reply, though even with the tug at his heart, the momentary joy, nothing came. The scene itself was all too familiar, Cas at the passenger door of Baby, a small smile across his face, and eyes shining, like every other day when they used to drive to work together, then home. Dean would blare the music that little too loud to bother Cas, or Cas would insist that they didn’t listen to any music so he could tell Dean about the newest thing he’d learnt or something interesting one of his students had done. Those days, when the music didn’t play, Dean would roll his eyes, complain about the lack of Led Zeppelin or AC/DC though secretly, even if he’d never admit it, he’d always preferred listening to Cas speak. 

Dean missed it, he didn’t realize how much he missed until there was almost fingertips away. Teasing him from what he could have had. 

He could feel a pain, deep in his stomach as Cas began to move, tugging off the first sleeve of Dean’s jacket, then the second, Dean’s own body unmoving. His lips still parted, though nothing leaving the other then a soft exhale that came out in a small cloud. 

“Thank you,” Cas said as he held the jacket out offering it to Dean, who took a step closer. He then took another, followed by a third until he was close enough to grab the jacket from Cas’s hand, and pull it around his own shoulders. The inside still warm from Cas, heat flaring across Dean’s arms, welcoming, and kind, with the faintest smell of Cas’s cologne.

“Sorry for you know-“ Dean shoved his hands into the jacket as Cas tilted his head in response, eyes squinting slightly, and nose scrunching. “Boiln’ you.” 

“I do think I preferred when you would buy me coffee instead of using to ruin my clothing.” 

A small smile tugged at his lips, Dean’s gaze staying on the other as Cas only stared back, barely a foot away. The small flakes of snow sticking to his hair and eyelashes, while his blue eyes were shadowed under the fading daylight. Dean didn’t think he’d call Cas gorgeous at thy moment, with his coffee stained shirt and forming bags under his eyes, but welcoming, kind. He was Cas. Familiar after years of being best friends, after years of being more. He was Cas with his eye contact that burned against Dean’s own, always leaving him speechless. 

His mind blank of any possibility. 

There was nothing for him to say. 

It wasn’t until Cas tilted his head that either of them made some kind of movement, there eyes still locked on one another’s. “Dean,” Cas began in his usual steady voice. “Are you busy Thursday evening.”

“What?”

“Are you busy Thursday evening?” 

Dean's lips parted again, though for a moment nothing came out, the hammering of his heart seeming to numb out any thought his brain tried to form. “Uh-“ Dean finally mustered, hoping it didn’t sound as stupid to Cas as it did to himself. “No-” He cleared his throat, then shifted his weight onto his right foot as an easy smile spread across his lips, “Schedules completely free, what’d you have in mind.”

“It’s Jack’s final hockey game of the year, and he wants you to come,” Cas explained. “Are you able to?”

“Yah, totally.”

Despite his words Dean couldn't help but feel a tug of disappointment, his gaze darting across Cas’s face waiting for whatever else he had to say even if Dean knew there was nothing. There wasn’t anything else Cas had to say. There never would be anything else for Cas to say. 

And that was proven as Cas gave a small nod of approval before he stepped around Dean, for once Cas’s eyes not meeting his own. “I’ll see ya tomorrow,” Dean said, his own gaze staying forward, locked on where Cas had once stood, and instead listening to the other walk away, the snow crunching under his boots.

The noise came to a stop, just for a moment, before it began again and Dean was left alone under the falling snow, dreading his silent drive home.


	4. Chapter three

December 5th  
20 days until Christmas 

He expected Jack’s hockey game to go like every other. It would be an hour and a half, spent with Dean at the top of the bleachers, in the far corner where no annoying parents looking to make small talk could see him, and more importantly Cas couldn’t see him. Then when the game would end he’d sneak out through the backdoors before he could be stopped and instead of seeing him in person call Cas so he could talk to Jack about his game. Though apparently last game of the year included an after party for the kids, an after party that before Dean could sneak out the back door was being dragged to by another parent he couldn’t completely remember the name of, Hannah? Helen? Holly maybe? which was held in a far too small conference room for the fifteen kids, and a handful of parents and siblings.

Dean had immediately made his way to the back corner, as far away from Cas as possible, and instead talked to Garth who at some point had joined him. The other happily talking about his dentel clinic, while Dean hummed along, more focussed on watching Jack play with the other kids, then whatever the other was saying. 

“And you're still working at the highschool?” Garth suddenly asked, Dean’s gaze immediately darting away from Jack to the other who was leant against the wall next to him.

“Uh yah- I teach metals and mechanics,” Dean replied. He raised a hand to his hair running it through the messy strands before he let it fall back to his side, and instead licked his bottom lip. “I’ve also been pickin’ up some shifts at an auto shop.”

Garth’s lips spread into a grin, “that’s really good for you.” Dean hummed, gaze darting away from the other and instead once again across the room, looking over the crowd of talking parents and screaming children for the familiar mess of dark hair. A head of hair he wouldn’t admit he was looking for, because why would he, it wasn’t like he planned on talking to the other. “It’s hard to move on and get back on your feet after a bre-”

“Do you see Cas anywhere?”

Dean’s gaze once again darted across the room, an unease settling in his stomach as after the third glance he still hadn’t seen the other. No ugly trench coat. No messy hair. Only loud parents, the noise seeming to bounce through the room. 

“Uh no-“ Dean heard Garth say from his left. He wasn’t fully listening and instead glanced towards where he’d last seen Jack playing, the child still there with Garth's daughter. “I think I saw him leave.”

Dean finally looked back to Garth, as he pushed himself from the wall they’d leant against. “Look man sorry to cut the conversation short but I’ve got to go.” 

He took a step towards the door, stomach still twisting, knowing the situation after being in it far too many times. “Me and some friends were going to get drinks tomorrow if you’d like to come,” Garth offered. 

“Sorry, I don’t drink.”

Garth began to say something though Dean couldn’t hear him as he walked away, not carrying who he bumped shoulder with as he made his way out of the small room, and into the hallway. The silence he was suddenly met with almost defening, only lasting for seconds before his foots steps were filling it. 

It took Dean little over five minutes to find the other, after checking the bathrooms, and the unlocked conference rooms, he found him in the back parking lot. Dean had pushed open a back door, his gaze immediately meeting Cas who was sat on a bench, facing away from Dean. 

For a moment he didn’t move, one hand holding the door open, while the other stayed at his side, his breath hitched in his throat. A year ago he would have walked over without hesitation, sat with the other until Cas’s panic attack was over, and the other could properly breath. He would sit, and talk or let the other talk, whatever Cas needed. Everything would go smoothly, because they knew each other, because they were Dean and Castiel, they were best friends long before boyfriends, but now-

There was an ocean between them and Dean wasn’t sure if he should have even looked for Cas. 

They weren’t friends, but they had been, and fuck Dean couldn’t imagine leaving his friend, slowly his lips parted and for a moment he didn’t think he could speak.

“Remember the first time we went ice skating?” Dean asked softly, his eyes immediately meeting Cas’s as the other turned his head. His features sat emotionless, lips pressed in a tight line, and chin tilted up the slightest bit in a fake confidence; one that may have fooled anyone else, though after years of Dean sitting on bathroom floor with the other, holding his hand through panic attacks, he knew Cas’s small ticks too well.

The way his blue eyes darted across Dean’s face, instead of holding eye contact, his jaw locked, and hands clenched into fists, nails probably digging into the palms of his hands.

“You fell.” Cas replied, his voice steadier than Dean had expected, loud throughout the silent night. 

“Stumbled,” Dean corrected, earning the smallest smile from Cas. He took a step closer to the bench where the other sat, followed by a second, then a third, heart hammering in his chest. Beating so fast he wasn’t sure how Cas hadn't heard it yet. It was the only thing Dean could hear as he stopped next to other and slowly raised his hand to Cas’s, brushing his fingers over the knuckles. Slowly and carefully, giving Cas the chance to pull away, though when he didn’t Dean unraveled Cass fingers, gaze dropping to the palm of his hand where small scratches now marked.

Cas took a shaken breath before his lips parted, “You tried to do a jump.” Cas finally whispered, as Dean moved his hand, unraveling the fingers of Cas’s other hand. “You ended up with a concussion.”

“Yah well- I thought the guy I was skating with was kinda cute and wanted to show off.” That pulled another small smile from Cas, and for a moment Dean could feel some ease to the tug in his stomach, though Cas’s eyes still darted across his face, wide under the distant glow of the building, still ticking with anxiety. Still squeezing at Dean’s lungs as he knew there was nothing he could do for the other but wait until he was okay. 

Dean lips parted and for a moment it was only to exhale, a small cloud of smoke appearing around him. “Too many people?” He finally whispered, receiving a small nod from Cas.

Slowly Dean took a seat, shoulder almost touching the others. He could feel how stiff Cas sat, posture perfect, and breathing uneven, as Dean could almost feel the anxiety ticking under his skin. 

What would Dean normally do. 

Hold the other’s hand.

Never touch anywhere else, that only made the anxiety worse. 

Let his thumb trail Cas’s nuckles 

Try to keep his own breathing even as Cas’s came fast paced.

Whisper soft nothings. 

None of that could be done, it wasn’t his place and Dean knew that, yet he coudln’t bring himself to walk away.

“Remember the first time we took Jack skating.” Dena continued keeping his voice as steady as he could. This time Cas didn’t make any indication that he had heard Dean and instead his eyes stayed burning on Dean’s, shoulders seeming weighed down by his trench coat. “It was at the outdoor rink, some saturday night when we were suppose to be at your parents for dinner.”

“We skated for hours, I thought my fingers were going to fall off,” Cas took a sharp breath, and Dean immediately leant forward, only just stopping himself from reaching out to the other, and instead squeezing his hand at his side. “Cas, breathe.”

The other took a visible breath, followed by another shaken one, then when Dean was sure he’d gotten his breathing somewhat under control he continued speaking in the same steady voice as before. “And when we got home we drank hot chocolate and watched Elf.”

“I liked that movie.” Cas replied.

“It was alright.”

“Dean,” Cas said, tone flat and incredibly serious. “It had raccoon in it.”

And with that simple statement Dena couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face, or the way his heart seemed to leap in his chest as Cas replied with his own small smile. He could still feel his heart in his throat, and stomach fluttering as his gaze dropped from Cas’s and instead to his hands, the tattoos that covered his arms just visible at the end of his sleeves. His gaze then went to Cas’s hands.

The other once again had his hands in fists, nails definitely digging into the skin. 

He wanted to lean forward, pull up the others sleeves to check for himself, to confirm his assumptions. He wanted to, to calm his own ticking thoughts, his twisting stomach and racing heart. Yet he knew he couldn’t, and if he found what he expected he would, he didn’t think he could leave the boundaries they’d spent months building since their break up, the boundaries that seemed to crumble with each passing second. 

“How are you doing?” Dean finally asked, words coming out as breathless as he felt. He looked up to other, meeting Cas’s intense gaze, his face covered mostly by shadows.

“Fine.” Dean didn’t reply, only raising an eyebrow. “I am a little-“ Cas hesitated for a moment, “shaken.”

“You should go home, I’ll stay a bit longer and drop Jack off in a bit.” Cas pressed his lips together, eyes still burning against Dean’s so harsh Dean wondered if he’d even heard him. “Cas-“

“Are you sure?” 

Dean gave a small nod, “get some sleep, I’ll drop him off in a few hours.”

Cas gave him another uncertain look before slowly standing. He was just turning away when Dean’s hand raised, grabbing the other wrists before he could even think about it. “Dean?” Cas whispered, or maybe insisted, his gaze immediately meeting Dean’s.

Dean didn’t reply and instead looked back down to Cas’s hand, letting his finger move to Cas’s and once again unraveling them, revealing the small marks that now scarred his palms. “You’re supposed to cut them short,” Dean grumbled, his fingers still resting against Cas’s. He should have moved them, and Dean knew that, yet the touch was so simple, so warm, so welcoming. 

“Thank you.”

Dean looked up, meetings Cas’s soft gaze, “anytime,” and with that Dean let his hand fall from Cas’s.


	5. Chapter four

December 7th  
18 days until Christmas

He should have thrown them out, the moment he and Cas had broken up they should have been thrown out. Then the moment they’d been pulled from storage they should have been thrown out. Dean should have thrown the pair of gloves out, he’d told himself that over and over, every time his gaze landed on their fuckin blue fabric. He should throw them and every pained memory that laced them out, though every time he managed to dangle them over the garbage Dean could only picture Cas’s blue eyes shining, just a few shades lighter than the gloves themselves. He could still see the wide smile that had spread across Cas’s face as he gave Dean the expensive pair of gloves, the kind of smile that warmed his whole face, crinkling the corner of his eyes, and melting Dean’s heart. The kind of smile that was so genuine it was impossible not to smile back. 

He should have fucking thrown them out.

He couldn’t throw them out, he couldn’t lose the leap in his heart that came everytime he pictured Cas’s smile, and instead Dean was left to stare at them, heart light as he trekked through the foot of snow covering the forest floor. His gaze lingered on the gloves for another moment before he finally looked up his gaze darting across the forest he walked through, along the tall trees that surrounded him, and the light grey sky above. The whole scene was quiet, calming, making the smile across Dean’s lips easy as his gaze darted first to Sam who walked on his right, then to Eileen and Jack who walked hand in hand a few feet ahead. 

“When’s the baby due?” Dean asked, his gaze staying a head as they walked, locked on Eileen's back. Even without being able to see her he knew the way her left hand would be resting on her stomach, the bump, which was usually hidden under layers of baggy shirts and flannels now completely visible, and impossible not to notice, as her winter coat hugged it tightly.

“The eighteenth,” Sam replied. Dean could hear his brother begin to say something else, though it was quickly replaced by a sigh then a blurred rambling. “She shouldn’t be here, I told her that, but she just- She says she’s fine, but there isn’t a hospital for miles and if she’s early- maybe we should get the trees some other day- come back-”

“Dude,” Dean laughed,”If she says she’s fine she’s fine, and if makes a baby surprise appearance, well maybe we can find some witch willin’ to play doctor. Maybe we could sell Sam Jr for something cooler like pie.” Dean grinned to his brother, Sam looking back in an expression Dean knew far too well. His shut up you’re an idiot look, though it wasn’t like that look had ever stopped Dean before. “-You know how witches have a thing for first borns, and all that shit.”

“I’m not selling my kid to a witch,”

“It was just a suggestion.”

Sam’s expression dropped, and immediately Dean’s grin followed, his darting across his brother in concern. “It’s stupid,” Sam finally mumbeled, Dean’s gaze not dropping, and instead watching every movement his brother made. A swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip, his left hand running through his hair, his right hand tightening around the ax he carried. “Everythings going to be fine, but-” 

“Dude, It’s going to be awesome .”

“I know,” Sam brought his hand back to his hair, brushing the strands behind his ears, and for a moment Dean wondered if he’d be able to cut the strands with an ax. That would solve at least one of their problems. “it’s hard with Christmas coming up, and-”

“And?” Dean questioned when his brother didn’t continue.

Sam’s gaze dropped to the ground, a small cloud parting his lips as he sighed. Silence once again fell, only broken by the crunching of their boots as they walked through the snow, Dean’s gaze still burning into the side of Sam’s head as if that alone would force his brother to speak. It wasn’t until Dean began to say something, that Sam looked back up, interrupting him. “Has dad talked to you recently.”

Dean couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, something that Sam’s expresion didn’t match, “Dude,” Dean almost laughed, “You think dad fuckin’ talked to me? It’s been what-” Dean’s voice faltered as the realization dawned on him. 

Concern, that’s how he thought Sam’s features sat, but with his wide eyes, his bottom lip puckered the slightest both, and fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his winter coat, Dean could almost kick himself for thinking it was concern and not guilt. He knew that expression anywhere, and as his gaze darted across Sam’s features for a second then a third Dean was sure of it. He’d seen that same look when Sam was a kid and had failed his math test, or as a teen when Dean had taken the blame for their broken window, or now whenever John was mentioned. Maybe there was a trace of concern, but it was definitely controlled by guilt.

“He texted you?” Dean finally mustered. He could his stomach twist as he watched Sam’s gaze drop, lips staying pressed together in a tight line, though that was the only confirmation Dean needed. “He texted you,” Dean repeated, receiving a small nod from his brother.

“Last night,” Sam mumbled, “he heard about the baby.” Sam’s gaze looked back up, though it only met Dean’s for a second before Dean was looking away, gaze darting instead across the tall trees that surrounded them, then to Eileen and Jack walking ahead. They were easier to look at then Sam. No guilt, no concern, it eased his stomach a little though did nothing to help him breathe, his lungs suddenly seeming to collapse in on themselves. Every breath becoming more forced than the last, mixed with a dull stabbing at his heart. How did it still hurt, how did it still burn, how did even years later it still affect him this much.

“-Dean?”

He clenched his jaw, giving a small hum in reply. “He wants me to call him when Eileen goes into labour.” Sam continued, pausing for a moment, letting the hammering of Dea’s heart fill the silence. Racing in his chest, harder with each step he took, with each forced breath that left his lungs, with each second he could feel Sam’s gaze burning against the side of his head. “I told him to screw off.”

Dean’s feet suddenly stopped, heart dropping in chest as he finally turned back to Sam who had also stopped. “You did what,” Dean spat, voice as harsh as he could muster while speaking low enough that Jack wouldn’t hear. He glared up to Sam as the other’s lips parted, though before Sam could reply Dean was speaking again. “You can’t be doin’ that shit, you aren’t a fuckin’ kid anymore.”

“You’re right,” Sam replied, voice much calmer than Dean liked, he would have preferred screaming, to have Sam’s anger match the way his own blood boiled, the way his fists clenched at his sides. “Which means I can make my own choices.”

“So you tell dad to screw off!”

“You’re seriously still defending him,” Sam replied, causing Dean’s jaw to clench, teeth grinding together. Sam’s own expression was sat on the brisk of anger, nose scrunched slightly, and eyes narrowed at Dean who only glared back, “Even After everything he did to you,” Sam continued in a low voice, “and you’re still licking his boots.”

“I’m not lickin’ shit,” Dean spat back. “I’m being a good son.”

“Dean-”

“Not now.” Sam’s lips parted though before Dean could hear whatever bullshit his brother was going to say, he turned away. “I get two days with my kid,” Dean said as he began walking ahead. “I’m not wasting them fighting with you.”

He could hear Sam begin to say something though Dean didn’t turn back, and instead continued to walk away, steps done in long strides as his jaw stayed clenched. It was the only thing that calmed the anger still prickling under his skin, dulled his spiralling emotions. A mix of anger, and frustration twisting his stomach, laced with disgust, hate, pain. God he hated the pain. He hated the need to still please his father. He hated the guilt. He hated the disgust. Most of all he hated himself for letting those things control him.

Despite the spiralling emotions Dean forced a smile across his face as he caught up to Jack and Eileen. His pace picking up with each step he took closer to his son until he could reach out and scoop Jack into his arms, spinning the child around in circles. Jack let out a loud screech as Dean did so, something that only made his smile grow, and before long the screech had become giggles as Dean slowed the spinning, and instead held Jack in his arms.

“Are you ready to get the awesomest Christmas tree ever.” Dean asked, grinning down to his son, as Jack grinned back with one of those wide toothy grins that made Dean’s heart leap in ways he could never describe. 

“Yah!” Jack cried. “With so many lights! All over!”

Dean laughed. “So many lights,” he agreed. 

He didn’t place Jack down and instead began walking again, able to feel Eileen’s eyes on him as they did, able to hear Sam’s footsteps as his brother caught up. Either way Dean didn’t look to his left, he didn’t want to see the concerned look that would definitely rest across their features, or feel the pain that would stab at his heart. He was tired of the pain.

With one arm still holding Jack to his hip, Dean used his other to brush a few strands of Jack’s hair under the toque he wore, and away from his eyes. Those bright eyes that looked up to Dean with nothing but joy. That was something Dean would never get tired of 

“Daddy doesn’t have lights,” Jack explained as his gaze dropped to instead focus on the string of Dean’s winter coat, his small fingers tugging at it, and tying it into small knots.

“Yes he does.” Jack shook his head. “I saw your tree,” Dean insisted, “there’s lights.”

Jack let out a dramatic sigh, that Dean knew was meant to be serious, though that only made the smile tugging at his lips harder to fight. “But no house lights!”

“You don’t have any lights on the house?” Dean asked, receiving another shake of Jack’s head ”Why not?”

Jack glanced to Sam and Eileen before he leant on until lips were almost brushing against Dean’s ear, his warm breath flaring along the side of Dean’s face. “Daddy doesn't know how to,” Jack said, much louder than a whisper. 

Dean’s lips spread into a grin though before he could reply, Jack had lent away a wide grin immediately spreading across the child’s face. “That one!” Jack practically screeched a hand raised pointing to the right. Dean’s gaze quickly went to the tree Jack pointed to, a large pine that stood at least double Dean’s height, causing him to crane his neck to even get a glimpse of the top. 

“You sure about that one,” Dean asked. He looked back to Jack, who gave a confident nod. “I don’t think I can carry that one.” 

“Yes you can!”

“Well-“ Dean hesitated for a moment, tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he thought of a reason for why the hell they couldn’t take that fuckin tree back. “Well how the hell are we goin’ to get the star on top?” Jack looked back to the tree, his eyes wide and lips parted into a small circle, though other than a small ‘oh,’ he didn’t say anything.“How about we keep looking?”

Jack didn’t look away from the tree, only giving a small nod in response. 

It took another twenty minutes to find a tree that Jack and Dean could agree on, Jack wanting the biggest tree he could find, while Dean wanted a tree that would actually fit in his living room. By the time they’d found one that they could both agree on Dean’s toes -and most of his body- were numb and he was more then happy when they managed to cut it down and drag it back to Sam’s truck. A second tree for Sam and Eileen had quickly followed and with it an hour they were back in the truck driving home. The heater on high in attempt to warm their cold cheeks, and Eileen's soft snores filling the silence 

Dean’s gaze once again locked on his gloves as Jack leant against his side, fast asleep. His own face was frozen, numb from the cold wind that had picked up after they cut down the first tree, similar to his toes, though not his fingers. They stayed warm, wrapped in the layers of frantic that made up the gloves. 

He let his eyes linger there for another moment before looking up, meeting Sam’s gaze who looked back through the rearview mirror. His features once again sat in the same concern as earlier, though this time as his lips parted, Dean only wanted to punch it off. “Dean-”

“Shove it.”

“I jus-”

“I said shove it Dr.Phil.”

“I don’t get it,” Sam continued anyways, apparently not understanding what shove it meant. “After what dad did, how can you still defend him.”

“It was what, thirteen years ago?” Dean said, forcing his voice to stay steady, to not watery despite the stabbing pain at his heart. “I got over it.”

“You just got over him ki-”

“Sam,” Dean snapped.

He heard his brother begin to say something else though this time Sam seemed to decide otherwise and instead left the car to sit in silence, something that only made the beating of Dean’s heart much more real, ringing through his ears. 

His gaze went to Jack, darting across the child’s soft features, his lips parted slightly as he slept, dark eyelashes fluttered shut. Sometimes Dean forgot just how old Jack was, seven, he’d had the child in his life for six years, yet he could have sworn it was only yesterday when he’d first held him in his arms. He remembered the way his heart had practically stopped as he looked at the baby’s round cheeks. The pure joy that had settled in his stomach as the baby’s eyes fluttered open. It was a feeling like any other, a love so different from how he felt about Cas, yet just as strong. 

He couldn’t imagine leaving him, he couldn’t imagine hurting him, letting even a trace of pain taint his innocence. 

Is that how John felt the first time he’d held him?

It seemed almost impossible. 

Slowly Dean raised his arm, draping it over Jack’s shoulder and pulling the child closer to his side. He could feel Jack’s breathing, raising and lowering his body in a steady beat. Real, alive, and there. He wasn’t going to leave. Jack wouldn’t leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter so much, with every inch of my soul but I’m so done with rewriting it so yah, here it!   
> Sorry it took so long, I rewrote it like twelve times, had a break down, seriously considered deleting everything I’ve ever wrote, had another break down , momentarily stepped back into my eating disorder, rewrote it again, then finally published it.  
> so yah!   
> This chapter was a process.  
> Anyways hopefully I won’t take as long to get the chapter up!   
> Thanks for reading!  
> Lots of love x.


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